


An Interlude

by AgentCoop



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alley Sex, Am I seriously the only one who's thought about these two together?, Angst, Banana Fish Smut Week 2019, Everyone Is Gay, Hand Jobs, Lao has feelings, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Shorter is just...Shorter, angsty sex once more, apparently, because of course they are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 03:54:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18024164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentCoop/pseuds/AgentCoop
Summary: Lao follows Shorter down the winding paths of the back alley one night in search of something...thrilling.





	An Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, basically I have this headcanon that Lao has been in love with Shorter since they were kids and Shorter is just...Shorter! He's happy, go-lucky, total player, just living his best life ;)
> 
> And thus they engage in shenanigans from time to time but it always means more to Lao, who will never actually confess his true feelings.
> 
> Enter: Shorter's death.  
> Enter: Ash admitting his fault.  
> Enter: All the angst and emotion and regret and hate surrounding Lao's final decision to....basically ruin all our lives.
> 
> So for all 2.5 people who read this thing...hope you like <3
> 
> Follow me on:  
> [Tumblr](https://iamagentcoop.tumblr.com/)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/agentcoop1/)

The alley behind the diner was dingy and musty. It smelled of mold and grease and occasionally the fermenting excrement of some delightful being. It was littered with sopping napkins and wooden pallets stacked six feet high, and the metal chain link fence did nothing to hide the graffiti that was rampantly spread along the brick of the surrounding buildings.

It was also home to Lao’s family. His boys. His friends. His gang.

The alley twisted and curved and was full of delightful nooks and crannies that were used sometimes for meetings and sometimes for beatings and sometimes for deals gone good and sometimes for deals gone very, very bad.

They were most often used for anonymous sex.

This is where Lao was now, trudging and winding his way along the cement, a stick in his hands held steady against the chain link fence.

_Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink._

Lao was drunk on whiskey. He was drunk on vodka. He was drunk on beer and on gin and on probably some ungodly combination of any number of alcoholic drinks. They’d all been celebrating at the diner that night, a deal gone fucking great, and for once he’d overindulged, nervous about something. Nervous about everything. 

He swayed as he walked, and stopped for a moment, giggling, but not entirely unaware of the press of anxiety that was quickly rising in his throat. 

It was in the third alcove that he found what he was looking for. 

Who he was looking for.

Shorter Wong hunched there, crouched on his knees and clutching a fifth of Bacardi with his right fist. His left elbow was thrown casually over his knees, and even this, in it’s simple, boyish elegance made Lao want to turn and flee. Shorter looked up though and smiled rakishly, though just the slightest bit off-center.

“Lao!” He exclaimed.

His voice was the volume of a football team, the volume of a screaming crowd, the volume of a teenager drunk on too much rum. Lao raised his stick in salute, then promptly dropped it. It scattered between them, a scritching whisper. Lao shivered.

“What’s up?” Shorter unfolded and rose to his feet, his body graceful and lithe in the moonlight. He held out the bottle of rum, his hand shaking only slightly. “Rum?” He offered.

Lao swallowed. There was a direness to his decisions that hadn’t been there moments ago. A fateful unwinding of his tenants. “I just,” he mumbled. Shrugged his shoulders. It was awkward and ungainly because he was nineteen and still growing and he’d never move, never _unfold_ , never glow like the creature before him. He held out his hand and Shorter handed the bottle over. Lao gulped, letting the burn of liquor destroy the anxiety. He stepped forward. “I just…”

Shorter reached out and fisted a hand in Lao’s hair. It pulled tight and his scalp prickled in pain and Lao gasped. He’d never felt this incredible warmth that was traveling from head to toe. The desire for pain, for touch, for flesh. Shorter turned him then, and pushed him against the chain link fence. It wasn’t so much a _clink_ anymore. Now it was a clatter of sound.

Shorter pressed up against him and bent his head down. “Looking for me?” He whispered, his breath hot against Lao’s neck.

Lao closed his eyes. He stood a few inches shorter than Shorter now, even though he had a full year on him. Shorter held him there still, pinned, pressure at his head, the weight of a body against him. He nodded once, then forced his eyes open once more. Stared up at the younger boy. “Yes,” he whispered. “Looking for…you.”

“You know what goes on back here, right, kid?” Shorter grinned down at him, easy confidence and swagger leaking from his very pores.

Lao grimaced. “I’m older than you are, idiot.”

Shorter pulled even tighter, and Lao had no choice but to give in, let his head be twisted up.

“And I’m your _boss_. Idiot.”

Lao surged forward, caught against the metal but furious for purchase. “I’m your second.”

“Yes,” Shorter agreed. Regarded him for a moment, his brown eyes swimming with inebriation, with loneliness, with something…tactile. He let go of Lao’s hair as suddenly as he’d grabbed it, and pressed a hand against the older boy’s chest, and then their mouths met, hot, angry, passionate.

Lao gasped at the burst of fire that followed, and as he breathed in, he tasted the bitter alcohol on Shorter’s breath, he tasted the intensity of his tongue. He moaned into this kiss just once, and Shorter pulled away, regarding him with a questioning, uncertain look. He almost looked like the boy he was for a moment—not the leader, not the boss, not the untouchable. 

“Do you…” Shorter said, pausing for breath. “Do you want this?”

Lao didn’t answer, just moved forward once more, seeking the warmth of Shorter’s mouth. Shorter moved a hand against Lao’s chest, but Lao grabbed it tightly, mercilessly, holding it hostage. Then he reached his left hand to Shorters neck, tracing the skin, letting every breath of the boy fluttler against his fingertips. He moved onwards, under Shorter’s vest, against his flat stomach, restless in it’s search. A bit further still and he pressed against Shorter’s length, hard and feral. 

Lao let the buzz of the alcohol mask his inhibitions and he gasped against Shorter’s mouth, “Let me, let me…” he couldn’t say it. Couldn’t speak the words. He was hard now as well, dick swelling painfully against the tight denim of his jeans. He was desperate for touch, for relief, for an end to this madness that had been haunting him since he turned ten and Shorter moved to the neighborhood, younger but infinitely full of power. “Oh my god,” he said instead, letting go of Shorter’s wrist and falling to his knees, dizzy with lust, with need.

“Wait,” Shorter gasped. “Wait, Lao, wait…” he sunk down in front of Lao then, refusing the offer.

A rush of color burned into Lao’s cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…it was the alcohol,” but as he was speaking, Shorter pressed back into him again, cupping his jaw with a gentle hand and tilting his head into the kiss. It was soft this time, more careful, more earnest. Then Shorter’s hand reached down, deftly unbuttoned the top of Lao’s jeans and pushed underneath the waistband of his brief. Lao gasped again in surprise, in shock, in adept thirst, and Shorter dropped his head.

He whispered then, once more against Lao’s neck. “Let me.”

It was two words, and they were magical and full of everything and Lao wanted to cry out with the way another man’s hand felt against him. 

So warm.

So calloused.

So different and wrong and perfect, all wrapped into a night of debauchery.

“Shorter,” Lao murmured. Shorter’s head was bent against his neck, his breath coming in warm puffs, his hand the only movement, in the still night. Lao thrust into his hand then, unable to stop himself from moving with the intensity. “Shorter,” Lao gasped as he threw his head back into the metal of the fence.

_Clink._

“Shorter, oh my god, Shorter!” He cut off the cry as he came, and fisted his hands against the fence, unsure of what to do, unsure of how to react, only lost in pleasure. There was a faint movement against the pulse at his neck and he recognized Shorter’s smile for what it was. “Oh my god,” he repeated. Spent. Shocked. Useless. “Can I,” he tried once more.

“Naa, I’m good man.” Shorter rose then, above Lao who was still on his knees.

It was dark, but Lao could make out a damp spot on Shorter’s jeans in the effervescent moonlight. “How,” he murmured, still lost in an eternity of emotion.

Shorter just grinned, wider now, teeth glinting. He winked then, before bending down to pick up the discarded fifth. Raised it to his lips and drank.

Lao watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed with every swallow. He wanted to taste the skin there. Wanted to feel it move beneath his tongue once more. Wanted to taste the rest of him.

“Thanks,” Shorter said. “I needed that.” He offered the bottle down to Lao once more, shrugging his shoulders and looking almost embarrassed. “Been a long week,” he offered.

Lao shook his head no, and Shorter brought the alcohol back to his own lips. He stumbled forward for a moment and caught himself at the fence. Laughed.

The fence jingled with movement. _Clink. Clink._

“See you back at the diner?” Shorter offered.

Lao shook his head in the affirmative, dazed.

“Sweet.” 

Lao watched as he gave a graceful salute, then he turned, and trudged unsteadily back down the curve of the walkway as Lao pulled his knees to his chest.

He swung his arm around them. Tilted his head back. Aimless. Careless.

Awkward.

Lao sighed, closed his eyes for a moment, and allowed the empty moonlight to spill over his body.


End file.
